


Make This Place Your Home

by cvsossong



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (just for a little bit and then the guy gets the shit beat out of him), Adopted Children, Child Abuse, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Feels, Stony - Freeform, Superfamily, Superhusbands, Teen Peter, Tony Stark Has A Heart, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvsossong/pseuds/cvsossong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's lived his life in and out of foster homes. Now, he may have finally found a home with the most unlikely family ever formed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hold On to Me as We Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deacog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deacog/gifts).



> find me on [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/)

“Peter, hurry the hell up. You’re gonna miss the bus and I'm not driving you again!”

Peter rolled his eyes and closed his notebook. He’d been with this foster family for six months now. Jane and Frank weren’t the worst he’d had, at least. The worst part was sharing his bedroom with three other boys, each more annoying than the last.

“ _Peter!”_

“Coming!” he called back. Sighing, he grabbed his backpack and jacket and bounded down the stairs. “Can’t I at least get something to eat?”

Jane threw an apple at him. “Get out, and if I hear that you skip school again you’re gonna be grounded till you’re dead.”

“Good luck. I’m out the day I turn eighteen,” Peter muttered. He slammed the door before she could say anything and raced for the bus stop.

Gwen was already on the bus by the time he made it on. She waved him over and patted the seat next to her. “You almost missed it,” she scolded when he plopped down beside her. Peter just shrugged.

“I was studying for chemistry. Got a big test today, didn’t get to study last night.”

Gwen frowned. “Why not?”

“Frank had me working on the back porch again ‘till late.”

“Is that railing really still broken?”

Peter snorted. “Yeah,” he replied bitterly. “I’m starting to think he’s breaking it every time I fix the fucking thing.”

“Maybe you should talk to a case worker,” Gwen suggested. Peter shook his head and slouched in the seat.

“Tried it. Over and over. I’m sick of trying to get CPS to listen to me about these shitty foster homes. All I have is three more years and then I'm out forever.”

Gwen patted his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Peter just nodded and opened his notebook again.

\--------------------

Tony dodged another tentacle and fired off a few more repulsor blasts. “Okay, it’s officially not working,” he confirmed.

_“Really? You didn’t figure that out five minutes ago when you fired one straight in its eye and it just blinked?”_

“Sarcasm doesn’t transmit well over the comms, Barton,” Tony replied. “Not that you’re any good at it.”

_“Okay, wait, see if this translates: fuck you with a brick.”_

Tony grinned and let loose several small missiles at the octopus’s head. “Cap, on your left,” he called. The supersoldier dodged just before a large tentacle slammed down in the street where he’d been standing. “Anyone got any ideas on how to handle this thing?”

 _“I say we get Thor to fry it into sushi,”_ Sam said. He swooped down next to Tony and fired his talon towards the octopus’s head. The creature just batted the weapon away and turned to shriek at the pair in the sky.

“I didn’t even know that octopuses made noise like that,” Tony muttered. He frowned. “Octopuses? Octopi? JARVIS, what’s the plural?”

 _“Now’s really not the time, Iron Man,_ ” Cap called. _“Focus on the mission in front of us.”_

“I’m focused, I’m focused,” Tony grinned.

 _“Thor, can you try your lightning?”_ Cap continued. _“Sam might be on to something.”_

Thor zoomed past Tony and Sam, hammer held out in front of him. Above them, storm clouds gathered and lightning began to flash.

“For Asgard!” Tony heard Thor shout. Streaks of lightning flashed across the sky, slamming into the octopus from every angle. The creature shrieked again and convulsed from the electricity.

“This is borderline horrifying,” Tony whispered to Sam. The other man just nodded, staring open- mouthed at the scene in front of him.

Eventually, the monster shuddered again and collapsed in the street, tentacles flailing as it fell.

Cap approached the monster and examined it carefully _“Looks like we’re all clear. Nice thinking, Falcon.”_

“I’m almost regretting coming up with the idea.”

Tony just clapped Sam’s shoulder and swooped down to land beside Cap. He slid the faceplate up and kicked at the octopus with one booted foot. “Not bad,” he said appreciatively. “Looks like dinner’s on Thor.”

 _“I’m not eating that fucking thing, it tried to suck my face off,”_ Bucky said. Tony looked up and saw him remove his facemask and dismantle his sniper rifle. _“I say we order pizza and let SHIELD clean up the squid guts.”_

“Here, here.” Tony turned to Cap and flipped the faceplate down again. “Want a ride?” he asked. The other man nodded and slid his shield back in its holster on his back.

“No wild moves,” he warned Tony. Tony just shrugged and extended his hand. “I mean it, Stark, if you try anything—”

“Better hold on, Spangles.” With that, Tony took off towards the Tower at full speed, forcing Cap to wrap his arms around Tony’s neck and shoulders.

Back at the Tower, Steve tugged his cowl off and watched JARVIS dismantle the suit while Tony walked inside. “I thought I said no wild moves,” he said.

“Sorry, _Mom_.” Tony collapsed on the couch and pulled out a tablet. “Did you see how Sam’s wings listed to the left? JARVIS, pull up the scans for Falcon’s wings, they might need to be recalibrated.”

Steve sat in the armchair and watched while Tony worked. Eventually the rest of the team arrived, and Bucky immediately collapsed in the chair next to him.

“I smell like fish and octopus guts,” he complained.

Steve frowned. “You weren’t even near the fight, you were on top of a building the whole time.”

“Don’t patronize me. That fucking thing almost asphyxiated me with three of its tentacles.”

Bruce appeared, cleaning his glasses on his shirt. “How did it go?” he asked. He had agreed to stay behind on this mission after the incident with the mutant frogs had left most of Broadway covered in amphibian goo.

“Thor barbequed the thing and it’s still lying in the street. So, about as well as can be expected.”

“Who’s up for watching _American Psycho_?” Tony set his tablet down and JARVIS queued up the movie. Steve sat back and watched the team settle in together in the family room. He smiled. When he’d first arrived in the 21 st century, his biggest fear was being alone in a strange new time. Now he had his team, and everything seemed all right in the world again.

\--------------------

Peter groaned and slumped in his chair. The science class had taken a trip to StarkIndustries to tour the R&D department and discuss mechanical and chemical engineering. Peter had been excited at first, but his teacher had been lecturing them on lab safety for almost forty- five minutes and he was bored out of his mind.

“Are you paying attention?” Gwen whispered to him for the third time. Peter nodded and rolled his head back with a groan.

“Could this _be_ any more boring?” he muttered. Gwen elbowed him lightly and he looked back up at the teacher.

“And now, if you’ll all stand up and follow me in an orderly manner, we’ll begin our tour.” The class stood and shuffled towards the elevators. Peter hopped up and dragged Gwen with him.

“Come on, come on,” he insisted. Gwen laughed and followed him into an elevator already packed with students.

The labs were _amazing_. Peter broke away from the group almost immediately, wandering off with his hands stuffed in his pockets to look at the experiments and inventions that littered the area. Gwen hissed at him to stay with the group, but he ignored her.

He was studying a prototype model for a self- sustaining generator when a voice sounded behind him. “You know, that thing’s not nearly as impressive as what’s over in Lab 3.” Peter whirled around and came face to face with Tony Stark himself.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, you’re—”

“In disguise,” Stark replied in a loud whisper. He was wearing an oil- stained t- shirt and faded gray sweatpants, and had a pair of goggles slung around his neck. “You seem to have lost your group over there.”

Peter glanced over to where the rest of his class was gathered around the teacher again for another one of his lectures. He rolled his eyes. “Knowing him someone touched a work bench out of turn and now he’s warning everyone of the ‘dangers of bacteria in laboratories’ or some bullshit.”

Stark chuckled and tossed his wrench down on one of the tables. “You got a bit of a mouth on you, huh?” he grinned. Peter shrugged and shoved his hands farther in his pockets.

“Why are you in disguise?” he asked after a moment. “You own this company, you shouldn’t have to hide to come down here.”

“I _used_ to own this company,” Stark corrected. “Now I just invent for it. And save the world sometimes. Still, if I came down dressed as myself I’d never get anything done. People tend to swoon when they see genius inventors actually working.”

“You sure are humble,” Peter mumbled. Stark arched an eyebrow and Peter blushed when he realized he’d said that out loud. “Sorry. Gwen tells me I don’t have a filter.”

“She your girlfriend?”

Peter shook his head. “I’m not really, uh, into… girls,” he finished lamely. Stark just nodded. “I mean, they’re alright, and sometimes I like one, but… mostly not.” God, why was he spilling his sexuality to this man?

“So why’re you over here instead of with your group?” Peter blinked at the sudden change in topic. He shrugged and scuffed his foot.

“Everything he’s teaching is basically review for me. I learned all this a long time ago. I really came here so I could see the labs in person.”

“When did you learn this? You retaking the class or something?”

Peter shook his head. “I sort of taught myself this when I was younger. I used to borrow books from the library and take notes over and over until I memorized it.”

“You taught yourself chemical engineering?” Stark sounded impressed. He leaned back against a table and crossed his arms. “How about mechanical?”

“I don’t know as much about that,” Peter admitted. “I’m really into chemistry and biology, mostly. Like genetics and stuff.”

Stark snorted. “You sound like Bruce. I should get him down here, you two can fawn over DNA or whatever.”

“Bruce _Banner_?” Peter blinked and grinned in spite himself. “That guy’s a legend in genetics. He’s got this paper on the advancement of the supersoldier serum and—”

Stark held up a hand and Peter shut up immediately. “Save it, kid, he’s the one you want to talk to on that. I read the paper and understood almost none of it. My science is more the ‘down and dirty’ type.”

“Could I… I mean, could I actually meet him?” Peter glanced over, but the class was still gathered around his teacher. Gwen was glancing around, and when she spotted him she made a hand motion and glared. Peter just grinned sheepishly and winked at her.

Stark pulled out his phone from his pocket. “You free this afternoon?” he asked as he tapped away at the screen. “Bruce’s working right now, some big new prescription pill or something, but he usually crashes around 4:30 and comes down here for some light experimenting and PB & J.”

“Are you serious?” Peter gaped. “You’d let me come back?”

Stark grinned. “You’re a science geek. One of us. We nerds have to stick together and all that. You in?”

“Hell yeah!” Peter could hardly believe it. _Wait until Gwen hears about this, she’s gonna flip._

“I’ll tell JARVIS to let you in, he’s already scanned you so he’ll know. You’d better catch up with your class before they leave you behind.”

“Oh shit.” The class was already moving down the hall, and Gwen was gesturing frantically at the door. Peter scooped up his backpack and stumbled away, turning to wave at the man before he ran out. “Thank you, seriously—”

“Go, kid.” Stark laughed and waved him towards the door. “Come back and nerd out later.”

“Definitely, yeah, seriously.” He nodded again and opened the door.

“Hey!” Peter turned when Stark called out to him. What’s your name, kid?”

“Peter Parker,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.” Gwen grabbed his arm and dragged him away before he could say anything else. Peter turned to her with a grin. “Did you just fucking see that?” he asked. “I got to talk to Tony _Stark_. He said I could come back this afternoon and talk to Bruce Banner, and see more of the labs, and—”

“For God’s sake, Peter, can’t you just go on a tour like a normal kid?” Gwen looked exasperated. She rolled her eyes and pushed him towards the elevators. “Come on, we’re going to see the medical labs.”

\--------------------

Peter’s parents had died when he was six years old. He barely remembered them, aside from little details. The smell of his mother’s perfume. His father’s silver- flecked hair. Baked chicken on Thanksgiving.

Uncle Ben and Aunt May had taken him in for a few years, and they had become like second parents to Peter. But then Uncle Ben got shot by a mugger and Aunt May had a stroke, and Child Services came along and took him away to a foster home until she got better.

She never did.

That had been six years ago. Now, at fifteen years old, he’d been to nine different foster homes and lived with nine different shitty foster parents. There had been Joseph and Rachel, who were so religiously conservative they beat him every time he cursed or burped at the dinner table. And Caleb and his girlfriend Ruby, who’d tried to sell him to a pedophile for two hundred bucks and a bag of cocaine. And “Auntie” Vanessa, who was collecting foster kids for the checks they sent her and made Peter sleep in a bed with nine other kids for three months straight.

After a while, Peter became numb to the system. Go to a shitty home, stick around until they got sick of him, get shipped off to a new home. He’d lived in every borough in New York, seen every shithole in the city there was to see and then some. He began counting down the days until he was eighteen, praying for the day to arrive when he could escape the system and go live on his own. He worked odd jobs and collected all the money he could to pay for rent for an apartment of his own, and learned to ignore his surroundings as much as possible.

He didn’t have much to look forward to in life. He wasn’t athletic, he hated socializing with people, and he didn’t have the money to go to the movies a lot. The only real joy he had anymore was learning and books. He’d go to the library almost every day and check out books and articles about everything—from the Battle of Hastings to the theory of relativity. When he discovered genetics and biology, he became obsessed. Something about gene mutations drew him in. He read everything he could get his hands on, over and over until he could recite pieces from them word for word. One of his favorites had been an article from a scientific journal about how genetic mutations could lead to a subspecies of super-humans in the near future, written by none other than Dr. Bruce Banner.

And now he actually had the opportunity to meet him.

“This is crazy, you’re like a legend,” Peter grinned. Dr. Banner was a timid, nerdy looking guy with wire rim glasses and tangled, dark curls. Peter loved him. "I read your theory of mutated genes and how they effected the frontal lobe when I was in seventh grade and didn’t sleep for a week, just thinking about it.”

“You read that in seventh grade?” Dr. Banner sounded impressed. Peter tried to contain his inner squeal of excitement.

“I found it between a book on evolution and a scholarly article about the effects of nuclear radiation in Chernobyl. It looked interesting, so I picked it up. It’s incredible, seriously, I’ve read like all your work.”

Stark nudged Dr. Banner and grinned. “What did I tell you? The kid’s one of us.”

“I thought you were over exaggerating,” Dr. Banner admitted. “But you’re right.” He smiled at Peter and nodded towards one of the worktables. “I’ve got an experiment running over there if you want to check it out.”

“Hell yeah I want to,” Peter replied. He felt like Christmas had come early twice over.

Stark chuckled. “I told you he had a mouth, too.”

“He sounds like you,” Dr. Banner muttered. Peter didn’t hear them, though. He was already leaning over the project.

Two hours passed before Peter even realized what time it was. “Aw, man, I gotta get home or Jane’ll kill me,” he groaned.

“Jane?” Stark set down his blowtorch and glanced up at Peter. “You call your mom by her first name?”

Peter shook his head. “Jane’s my foster parent,” he explained. “Jane and Frank. Been living with them for a few months now.”

“You’re in the system?” Stark sounded surprised. He blinked and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

Peter grinned. “S’okay. My parents died when I was young, and my aunt and uncle—well, anyways, I’ve been in the system a long time.”

Dr. Banner cleaned his glasses again and glanced over at Peter. “You said your last name was Parker, right?” Peter nodded and Dr. Banner stretched out a hand. “Then it was nice to meet you, Peter Parker,” he said with a warm smile. Peter grinned back and shook his hand firmly.

“Thank you again, seriously,” he replied. Stark clapped his shoulder and pushed him towards the door.

“Come on, kid, I’ll take you home. Hope you like sports cars.”

“Are you serious? I’m a teenage boy, fuck yeah I like sports cars.”

Stark grinned and pressed the elevator button. Peter figured this was one of the best days of his entire young life.

\--------------------

“Didn’t I tell you the kid looked familiar? He’s the spitting image of Richard,” Tony was saying as he and Bruce stepped out of the elevator. Steve glanced up from his book.

Bruce nodded. “And it fits. Last name Parker, orphaned at a young age, boy genius. I don’t know how you manage to keep finding these high- profile geniuses in the middle of nowhere, but you found Richard’s kid.”

“Who’s Richard?” Steve asked. Tony collapsed on the couch next to him.

“Richard Parker. He was a scientist, worked for OsCorp,” Tony explained. “Big into genetics. He and his wife Mary were killed in a plane crash nine years ago. I knew they had a son, but I heard he went to live with Richard’s brother Ben.”

“Peter’s aunt and uncle must’ve died and they sent Peter to CPS,” Bruce finished.

“That’s awful,” Steve said. “Is he with a good family?”

Bruce shook his head and cleaned his glasses. Steve noticed he tended to do that when he was anxious. “He didn’t say. He calls them by their first names, though, so it doesn’t sound very good.”

“He said he’d only been with them for a few months. He’s probably been jumping around from home to home for a few years.” Tony shook his head. “Poor kid.”

“Maybe we can do something for him,” Clint suggested. “Since you and his dad were friends, it wouldn’t be too weird, right?”

Tony frowned in thought. “I’ve got something,” he said finally. Jumping up, he grabbed a tablet from the kitchen table and headed for the elevator. “I’ll be in the workshop. Don’t wait up.”

Several days later, Tony was leaning against one of his cars outside Peter’s school. He’d researched the kid ( _not_ cyber-stalked, thank you) and figured out what he liked and where he went to school. Tony wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to give this kid something good. So here he was.

The bell rang, and Tony watched the other kids file out. Eventually, Peter appeared with his head buried in a book. Tony walked over and tapped his shoulder.

 _“The Art of War_? Geez, kid don’t you have any fun?”

Peter’s head whipped around and he gaped at the other man. “Mr. Stark!”

Tony grinned. “Call me Tony. ‘Mr. Stark’ makes me feel ninety years old. Come on, we’re going to the lab.”

“Seriously? You’re letting me come back?” Peter looked like he was ready to hug Tony.

“’Course I am.” Tony led him towards the car. “If you want to, at least. You’re welcome at the Tower any time you like, JARVIS’ll always let you in.”

Peter beamed and slung his backpack in the backseat. “Thanks, Tony, that’s awesome.”

“Good. Now come on, there’s places to go and experiments to blow up.”


	2. You Can Always Be Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE CHILD ABUSE CHAPTER. It's near the beginning, and doesn't last very long, but for anyone who wants to skip this you can stop at the sentence: "So everything was good until it wasn’t" and (if you want) start again at the hospital scene "Peter woke up to steady beeping...". If it really bothers you you're also welcome to skip it entirely.

Over the next two months Peter started going to the Tower almost every day after school. JARVIS always let him in with a short quip and a warning not to blow the place up, and Tony or Dr. Banner usually greeted him at the doors to show off whatever they were working on most recently. Sometimes they even asked for Peter’s opinion on something.

Sometimes Peter would come home and there would be a package for him. It never gave a return address, and it was always filled with various items—science equipment, video games, different movies. Peter once mentioned to Tony that he kept running out of socks because he kept getting holes in the ones he had, and three days later a package arrived with socks that never wore out. Seriously, he’d tried setting a pair on fire once and nothing happened.

Peter never mentioned to Tony that he knew it was him sending the packages. It was sort of nice, having something to look forward to at home.

One day, Peter entered the lab to find it dark and empty. JARVIS informed him that the Avengers had gone off on a mission in Fort Lauderdale and asked if Peter wanted to watch it live using JARVIS’s various camera angles. So Peter got to sit on the couch and watch the Avengers defeat the army of super-advanced senior citizen minions some mad scientist had created.

It was _awesome._

“You guys kicked ass!” Peter said when Tony appeared a few hours later.

Tony grinned and finished removing the suit. “You’re still here? Thought you’d have gotten bored and left.”

Peter shook his head and leaned over the arm of the couch. “Are you kidding me? That was so cool, when you blew up the guy’s mind control machine with your repulsors and Captain America threw his shield and hit _three_ guys on the head in a row. And Hawkeye blowing up that Humvee by shooting the gas tank? So great.”

“Don’t let Barton hear that,” Tony replied. “His ego’s big enough already.” He sat next to Peter on the couch with a groan.

“Where’s Dr. Banner?” Peter asked.

“You really can call him Bruce, you know. And he’s sleeping off his transformation. Turning into the Hulk really drains him.”

“How does he do it? Is it, like, a natural response to his anger? Or is it more controlled, like he turns on a switch in his mind. Or maybe it’s like a trigger word or something.”

“You’ll have to ask Bruce later.” Tony grabbed a tablet that he always seemed to have lying around and began tapping away. “You feel like watching a movie? We can find an old American classic and put that on.”

Peter grinned and curled up in the corner of the couch. “Hell yeah. You got _Maltese Falcon_ on that thing?”

Tony laughed. “I knew you’d have good taste, kid,” he said.

As Tony started up the movie, a thought occurred to Peter. “It’s not weird, right?” he asked. “That I'm coming over here so often?”

Tony shrugged. “Consider it a long interview for a position at StarkIndustries after you go to college,” he replied. Then he paused the movie on the opening credits and turned to Peter seriously. “I know you don’t really wanna talk about it, but… if you ever have any problems at home, you can always come to me. For anything, seriously.”

Peter nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Tony.” The genius nodded and started the movie up again.

The truth was, Jane and Frank’s house was really starting to suck. Frank had lost his job at the cable company and he’d been spending all his time at home, nursing a bottle of scotch. The other foster kids in the house all had after school activities, like dance class or football, but Peter was the newest in the house and hadn’t been allowed to join clubs or anything at first. Besides, Peter was too antisocial to really do anything. Coming to the Tower was just a nice way to escape for a few hours and explore something he really enjoyed.

He even got to meet the rest of the Avengers once or twice. He’d already met Black Widow, who insisted he call her Natasha and that if he ever used “miss” before her name she’d break his fingers, and Hawkeye, who’d just grinned and said Peter could call him whatever the hell he wanted. The best day was when he met Captain America on the elevator up.

“You’re Peter, right?” the captain had asked. Peter had been too dumbstruck to do anything but nod stupidly. “I’m Steve Rogers.” Peter had accepted his outstretched hand and managed to shake it before the elevator dinged and the other man stepped out.

“Holy shit, I just met Captain America!” he’d shouted when he finally made it to the labs. Tony had just rolled his eyes and flipped his work mask back over his face.

Honestly, sometimes the thought of being able to go to the Tower was the only thing that got Peter out of bed in the morning.

So everything was good until it wasn’t.

It was partly Peter’s fault, really. He was supposed to go home earlier on Wednesdays to help Jane clean up around the house and get ready for dinner. But Dr. Banner had discovered a possible chemical mixture that would temporarily mimic the effects of the supersoldier serum, and Peter had gotten so wrapped up in helping him that he hadn’t even realized what time it was until he glanced up and noticed the sky was turning purple.

“Ah, shit, I was supposed to be home an hour ago,” he muttered. Bruce swiped the formulas off the screen in front of them and helped Peter gather his notebooks.

“Need a ride?” he asked. Peter shook his head.

“I brought money for a taxi. I gotta stop by the drugstore real quick anyways, to pick up my meds.” After the loss of both his parents and aunt and uncle, a therapist had prescribed him medication to treat his anxiety and depression. They didn’t always work, but they sure as hell helped.

Forty-five minutes later, Peter rolled up in front of his foster home, paid the taxi driver, and bounded through the front door. “Sorry, I know I'm late, Jane,” he called. When no one answered, Peter checked in the kitchen. It was empty, and a note was stuck on the fridge from Jane saying she’d run to the grocery store to pick up more bread.

“That you, Parker?” Frank called from the living room. Peter sighed.

“Yeah, I'm home,” he replied.

“Bring me a beer, I'm fucking thirsty!”

Peter rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle from the fridge. “Whatever you say, asshole,” he muttered.

Frank appeared in the doorway, wearing a sweaty wife beater and boxer shorts. “You say something, punk?” he demanded, swaying on his feet.

“No, sir,” Peter replied sarcastically. He usually knew better than to mock Frank, but he was pissed and late on taking his meds.

Fortunately, Frank was too gone to hear the sarcasm. “Hurry up and make me something to eat,” he said instead.

“Oh, come on, Frank. I got a big test to study for!” Peter protested. “Can’t _you_ make something for yourself?”

Frank glared at him and stumbled over to push his face in Peter’s. “You disobeying me, boy?” he growled. “I took your ungrateful ass into my home, you should show me more respect.”

“You’re an old, washed-up drunk,” Peter bit back. “If you didn’t want foster kids you shouldn’t have applied, dumbass.”

And that was when Frank hit him.

For a drunken loser, he was surprisingly strong. He backhanded Peter and chuckled when Peter stumbled and leaned against the counter for support. “Lousy waste of my money,” Frank slurred.

Peter wiped his mouth and glared at Frank. “What the hell?” he shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Frank glared at him and stepped forward. “I’ll teach you manners one way or another, punk.” He hit Peter again and Peter stumbled to the floor. “Come on, tough guy, get up,” he mocked. Peter sat up on his knees and threw his hands up when he saw Frank’s fist descend.

 _Oh God, he’s actually gonna keep going,_ Peter thought. He’d been hit before by other foster families, but none of them were as big or strong as Frank apparently was. When he threw a punch, it actually _hurt._

The next thirty minutes were sort of a blur. Peter remembered falling to the ground and staying there at one point, simply because it was easier than struggling to get up every time. Frank punched like a heavyweight champ and Peter’s ribs and collarbone were starting to sting like a bitch.

At one point, Frank pulled his leg back and kicked at Peter’s ribs with his full force. Peter cried out and felt one of his ribs crack. Frank did it again, and again, and again, until Peter lost the will to shout and just moaned quietly. After that, Frank seemed to lose interest.

“Lousy asswipe kid,” he muttered, standing over Peter and smirking. Peter’s vision was starting to fade, and he was suddenly terrified that Frank would actually kill him in his drunken rage. But the man just stumbled over to the fridge, grabbed another beer, and made his way into the living room.

Using his last burst of energy, Peter reached into his pocket and grabbed his cellphone. He sent Gwen a text—a simple **‘call** **911 help’** —and slumped against the cold tiles again, letting the blackness wash over him. His last thought was that this was _definitely_ the shittiest foster home he’d been in yet.

\--------------------

Peter woke up to steady beeping and the murmuring of the television. He groaned and started to sit up, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Oh thank god, you’re alive,” Gwen was saying over and over. Peter laid back and focused on her voice. He looked around in confusion.

“Where am I?” he croaked.

“You’re in the hospital, in the children’s ward.” Gwen stroked his hair away from his forehead. “I called the police when I got your text and sent them to your house.”

“Frank,” Peter tried. He sat up on his elbows and winced when a sharp pain throbbed in his ribs.

“Lay down,” Gwen protested. She pushed on his shoulder until he reluctantly followed her commands. “The police arrested him. They’re going to want your statement, but since he was the only one home at the time and when they found you…” Gwen bit her lip as she trailed off and wiped at her eyes. “You weren’t good when they got there,” she finally finished.

Peter snorted derisively. “That’s an understatement.” He couldn’t remember much of what happened, but he recalled enough to know he was gonna have some serious bruises after this.

Gwen just stroked his hair again. Peter closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch for a moment. “When can I get out of here?” he asked after a moment.

“The doctor wants to keep you overnight, and after that he’ll see how you’re doing. If everything’s okay you can go home by tomorrow.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open. “I can’t go back with Jane,” he objected. “She’s gonna blame me and who knows what she’ll try.”

Gwen opened her mouth to respond, but one of the doctors arrived and she closed it again. “Do you have anywhere else to go?” she whispered while the doctor checked his charts. Peter just shook his head and tried to pay attention to what the doctor was saying.

After checking his breathing and heart, the doctor nodded and closed his file. “Who should we contact?” he asked. Peter shrugged and glanced around the room.

“Where’s my cellphone? I can call… someone,” he said. When Gwen frowned at him, he shrugged.

After the doctor and Gwen had left him alone to make his call, Peter stared at the phone. He didn’t have many friends—Harry had moved away two years ago and Gwen’s parents were too wary of Peter to let him stay at their house. He could call Child Services, but he was tired and didn’t feel like dealing with that bullshit. Really, he only had one other person he could call.

 _“Shit. Hey, kid, gimme one second, Dummy’s trying to use the blowtorch again,_ ” Tony said after Peter had finally dialed.

“No, it’s cool. Take your time,” Peter replied. He heard several crashes and muttered curses, and finally Dummy’s dejected whine sounded as he wheeled away.

_“Okay, I’m back. What’s up?”_

“Umm…” How did you ask someone if you could stay at their house because your foster dad was a drunken asshole? “You remember I told you about Frank, right?”

 _“Foster dad, unemployed drunk? I remember,_ ” Tony said. _“Why?”_

“Well…” Peter took a deep breath and then everything just rushed out at once. “He was drunk and he told me to make him dinner, and I told him I had homework I had to do and said he should do it himself, and it’s sort of my fault since I kept pushing him and back-talking him, but he kind of hit me—”

 _“He did_ what _to you?”_ Ah, shit. Tony sounded pissed.

“Yeah,” Peter said lamely. “Like I said, it was sort of my fault, but he just kept going and now I'm in the hospital—”

_“I’ll be there in five minutes. You got a place to stay when you get out?”_

“Not really. That’s kind of why I was calling.”

 _“You’ve got one now. Anyone there with you?”_ Peter heard a muffled bang and robotic noises.

“Um, Gwen is still here,” Peter replied. “Wait, are you flying over? Like in the suit?” He’d never actually seen the Iron Man suit, but he knew Tony kept one in the labs for emergencies. “You really don’t have to do that, I could ask Gwen to take me to the Tower—”

 _“Don’t be ridiculous, kid,”_ Tony cut him off. _“I’m flying over, and when you get out I’ll send for a car and take you to the Tower. Just hang tight, okay?”_

“Yeah, sure.” Peter swallowed and plucked at the bed sheets. “Tony? Thanks.”

_“See you soon, kid.”_

\--------------------

Tony was working on a self-sustaining generator when JARVIS informed him Peter was calling.

“Thought he had homework,” Tony muttered to himself. “Alright, J, pick up and put him over the speakers.” Just then, Dummy grabbed the blowtorch and wheeled over toward one of the workbenches. “Shit. Hey, kid, gimme one second, Dummy’s trying to use the blowtorch again.”

 _“No, it’s cool, take your time,”_ Peter replied. Tony frowned. Peter’s voice sounded shaky and weak. He opened his mouth to ask if something was wrong, but Dummy looked up at him before starting up again full speed. Tony raced after him, knocking over several pieces of scrap metal along the way, and managed to yank it from his metal claw.

“Okay, I’m back,” he called finally. “What’s up?”

Something in the background rustled, like Peter was shifting in bed. _“Umm… you remember I told you about Frank, right?”_

Tony frowned. “Foster dad, unemployed drunk? I remember. Why?”

_“Well. He was drunk and he told me to make him dinner, and I told him I had homework I had to do and said he should do it himself, and it’s sort of my fault since I kept pushing him and back-talking him, but he kind of hit me—”_

Tony froze and blinked. Had he just heard that right? “He did _what_ to you?” he demanded.

Peter sounded borderline panicked. _“Yeah. Like I said, it was sort of my fault, but he just kept going and now I'm in the hospital—”_

Tony rested his elbows on the table and leaned his head in his hands. The room was starting to spin a bit, and all he could think of was Peter lying alone in some cold hospital room, with God knows how many injuries. Jesus, Peter could’ve _died_ because of that dick of a foster dad.

After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and stood again. “I’ll be there in five minutes. You got a place to stay when you get out?” Tony was already making hand motions for JARVIS to fire up the suit. The floor moved back and the suit pieces began to assemble themselves.

Peter took a deep breath. _“Not really. That’s kind of why I was calling.”_

Christ, he didn’t even have a place to stay. He was probably too scared to go back to that house, even with the man gone. Fuck these foster parents. Fuck that asshole Frank. Tony was going to kill him if he ever met him. “You’ve got one now,” he said instead. He didn’t even think about it; Peter needed a home, Tony had plenty of room. Peter was coming to stay with them and that was it. “Anyone there with you?”

 _“Um, Gwen is still here. Wait, are you flying over? Like in the suit? You really don’t have to do that, I could ask Gwen to take me to the Tower_ —”

“Don’t be ridiculous, kid,” Tony cut him off. The suit assembled around him and JARVIS opened the hangar door. “I’m flying over, and when you get out I’ll send for a car and take you to the Tower. Just hang tight, okay?”

 _“Yeah, sure.”_ Peter paused and Tony paused, tense with fear and panic. But after a minute Peter just sighed. _“Tony? Thanks.”_

Tony smiled bitterly and took off at full-speed. “See you soon, kid.”

Tony made it to the hospital in three and a half minutes. He pressed a button and the suit disassembled into the briefcase so he could carry it inside. “Hi, Peter Parker’s room,” he told the nurse when he arrived.

“I need to see some ID,” the nurse replied. Tony flipped his wallet open and her eyes widened when she read the name. “Mr. Stark, I apologize, I didn’t recognize—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “Where’s Peter’s room?”

The nurse pointed him down the hall and Tony nodded his thanks as he passed. It was half-dark in the room, but Tony could see a small white glow coming from inside. He pushed the door open and bit back a wince.

Half of Peter’s jaw and cheek was purple and mottled with bruises. They trailed down his neck and over his collarbone to disappear into his shirt. Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it looked like under there. His lips were split open and there was a large gash on the side of his forehead that had been stitched up.

Peter was watching TV, but he looked over when he heard the door open. He managed a half-smile and waved. “Hi,” he whispered.

Tony closed the door and dropped the briefcase in a chair. “Jesus, kid,” he breathed.

“It looks worse than it feels,” Peter said quickly. “Or, maybe that’s ‘cause of the painkillers, I can’t really tell. All I know is I can’t feel my face.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Tony replied. He sat in the armchair by Peter’s bed and glanced at the TV. “What’re you watching?”

“It’s called _21 Jump Street._ Gwen brought it over for me, it’s one of my favorites.”

“Yeah? This used to be a TV show, a long time ago.” Tony leaned forward and lightly pressed at the bruises on Peter’s arm. “Tell me they arrested him.”

“Yeah, Gwen says they got him in jail now.” Peter shifted uncomfortably and Tony jumped up.

“What’s wrong? You need a doctor?”

Peter shook his head and leaned back. “There’s some, uh, bruises on my tailbone and back, and it hurts if I sit on them too long,” he explained. “I just need to lean back, is all.”

“Do you need anything?” Tony asked.

Peter shrugged. “Could you…” He bit his lip and played with the bed sheets. “This is gonna sound really stupid, but could you just, like, pet my hair or something? My mom used to do it when I was younger, and my aunt, and…” He trailed off and wriggled down in the bed until he was lying with his head propped up. “Never mind, it’s stupid, sorry.”

“Lie back,” Tony instructed. He waited while Peter readjusted himself before carefully stroking back his hair. “You okay, kid?” he murmured.

Peter bit his lip and shrugged again. “I’ve been better,” he finally replied in a small voice.

Tony stroked his hair again. “You can let it out if you want, you know.”

“I know.”

They stayed that way for a few minutes, watching the movie. Tony sat in the armchair again but kept his hand on Peter’s head, since it seemed to relax him a bit. Finally, Tony heard sniffling and glanced over to see Peter wiping at his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered. Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bed. “Sorry, it’s just… I was just really scared,” he finished in a whisper.

“Shh, it’s okay, kid,” Tony reassured him. “If that guy comes near you again I’ll shoot a repulsor beam so far up his ass it’ll make his tonsils glow blue.”

Peter snorted and clutched his ribs. “Ow, shit, sorry,” he muttered as he readjusted himself. Tony stood and pressed the button to call a doctor. “No, really, it’s fine,” Peter protested.

Tony silenced him with a look. “You’re in pain, kid. The drugs must be starting to wear off already, so let the doctor get you some more, okay?”

“Yeah, but…” Peter swallowed and picked at the sheets. “The doctor doesn’t know about my ribs.”

Tony stared at him. “You didn’t tell them your ribs were hurt?”

“I mean, they know they’re bruised, but… if I tell them there’s more going on, they’re gonna want to take x-rays, and I get really claustrophobic, and…”

“Peter, if your ribs are broken the doctors need to know,” Tony comforted him gently.

“But I don’t want to be inside a machine,” Peter said quietly.

Jesus, the kid looked terrified. Tony sat next to him and carded his fingers in Peter’s hair again.

“I’ll stay with you,” he promised. “For as long as they’ll let me, I’ll stay with you, okay?”

\--------------------

They let Peter out of the hospital three days later. Once they had done an x-ray on his ribs and found that three of them had been cracked, the doctor insisted he stay a little longer to ensure that they hadn’t damaged any internal organs. Finally, he released Peter as long as he promised not to do anything strenuous.

“You should stay out of school for at least a month,” the doctor said. “I’d recommend a tutor, but I don’t want you going back to school until your ribs are more healed. I’ll write you a letter to send in to the school.”

Tony called Happy after the doctor had signed the release forms. “You’ll like the Tower, I promise,” he told Peter while they waited for the car. “If you thought the labs were cool, wait until you see the rest of the place.”

Peter grinned. “Yeah? Do the rest of the Avengers live there?” he asked.

Tony nodded. “They moved in about a year and a half ago, been living under my roof and eating my food ever since.”

“That sounds awesome. You guys are like some modern day sitcom or something, I bet.”

“Just don’t let Clint or Bucky pull any of their dumb pranks on you,” Tony warned. “They glued Bruce to a kitchen chair once and he was stuck there for three hours until the Hulk got bored and transformed just so he could escape. It was a mess.”

“How…” Peter fidgeted and bit his lower lip. Tony had noticed he did that when he was nervous. “I mean, I don’t have any clothes or my books, and I was wondering—”

“You can stay as long as you like,” Tony cut in. “As far as your belongings, I’ve already sent a few men to move everything out. It’s already waiting in your room.”

Peter froze. “My room?” he whispered. “I… you’re giving me my own room?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve got an enormous Tower with dozens of empty rooms and too much time on my hands. I had it built a while ago, just in case something happened.” He hated to admit it, but Tony had been afraid something like this might happen some day, so he’d been preparing just in case.

“Aren’t… aren’t people gonna talk about it? Say it’s weird?” Peter bit his lip again. “What about CPS, they’re gonna want to put me in a new home.”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it,” Tony soothed. “I already contacted CPS, they’re gonna bring by the paperwork in a few days.”

Peter frowned in confusion. “Paperwork?”

The car pulled up and Happy waved from the driver’s seat. Tony helped Peter in the back and slid in next to him. “I’m gonna be a foster parent,” he said quietly as they drove off. “So you can stay with me officially.”

Peter gaped at him. Slowly, hesitantly, he smiled up at the genius. “You’re… becoming a foster parent? For me?”

“If you want me to be, yeah.”

Peter beamed and plucked at his shirt. “Yes!” he blurted after a moment. Blushing, he glanced down at his lap. “I mean, yeah, Tony. That would be… I don’t even know what to say.”

Tony grinned and ruffled Peter’s hair. “It’s okay, kid,” he murmured. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really motivated about this fic so I'll probably be putting the chapters up pretty often. Next up is the next chapter for Signs of Life, and hopefully my College fic will be completed soon!


	3. Pay No Mind to the Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHILD ABUSE WARNING. There is a dream sequence in italics near the end of the chapter. Skip it if this bothers you.

The Tower’s penthouse was _awesome_.

Peter had to keep himself from drooling when he walked through the elevator doors with Tony after he was released from the hospital. “You _live_ here?” he said in awe. Tony grinned and opened his arms in a show-y gesture.

“Live, work, watch bad classic movies,” he replied. “With the team, of course.”

“Seriously? The whole team lives here with you?”

Tony shrugged and poured himself a cup of coffee from a pot that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “They have their own separate floors,” he explained. “I live here, in the penthouse. The so-called ‘team’ floor is one down, where we eat dinner and gather for the mandatory team bonding rituals Cap demands. Then they each get their own floors, and then it’s the labs.”

“This is… holy shit, Tony, it’s so _cool_!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty great.” Tony helped Peter sit on the couch and tossed a tablet next to him. “Here, you’re welcome to any movies I've got queued up on JARVIS’s system. Which is basically any movie.”

Peter shifted on the couch and crossed his legs to take up as little space as possible. “I can really watch any movie I want?” he asked carefully. Tony collapsed next to him and sipped his coffee.

“Sure thing. As long as it’s not, like, porn or something.”

Peter brought up an episode of _Star Trek._ “This okay? It’s… like a comfort thing, my aunt used to love this.”

Tony grinned. “This was most of my childhood, kid. I’ve seen every crappy episode, trust me.”

They sat in companionable silence for two episodes before Peter finally spoke up. “Can I really stay?” he asked, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I know I’ve asked that before, but… I just really don’t want to intrude, I don’t want to make a mess of things, and I know you’re not used to having a teenager around, and I read a report somewhere that it costs like $15,000 or more a year just to raise a kid, and I’ve still got three years till I'm eighteen—”

Tony cut him off with a careful hand on his shoulder while he paused the show with his free hand. “Peter, you’re hyperventilating,” he said quietly.

Peter relaxed his shoulders and swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe. He leaned towards Tony’s touch unconsciously and buried his head in his hands. “Sorry,” he gasped, “I’ve got this anxiety thing, it’s usually not this bad.”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Tony soothed. “It’s alright, I get it, just breathe, nice and easy. Follow my breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Peter followed Tony’s instructions and felt his chest relax slowly. He slouched back in the couch and flashed Tony a feeble smile. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Tony just stroked his hair back and started the show up again. “I get it, it’s okay,” he replied. “I had panic attacks for years after Manhattan, after the Chitauri. They got better, but every now and then they flare up. You taking meds for it?”

Peter nodded and fumbled in the bag he’d brought until he came up with two yellow bottles. “One for the anxiety and depression, and one is… umm, it’s technically PTSD? Like, obviously I haven’t been in a war zone, but—”

“Trauma’s from more than just shooting at terrorists in a desert,” Tony interrupted. “Anyone can get it. And God knows you’ve been through enough, kid.”

Peter nodded and swallowed nervously. “So, about that first question I asked? Before I freaked out on you, I mean.”

“When you asked if you could stay?” Tony ruffled Peter’s hair gently and smiled. “As long as you want. I’m already designing a room for you here in the penthouse, and I told you I’ve got papers being drawn up now.”

“Okay, but… why?”

Tony frowned in thought and tapped at the arc reactor for a moment. “You remind me of me,” he said finally. “When I was your age. And even though I had parents, they weren’t there, and I got into all sorts of shit. Alcohol, drugs, sex… bad shit. So when you came into the labs, all excited and full of curiosity, it just struck something with me.”

“Yeah, but most people donate to a charity or something, not take in a wayward teenage kid on a whim.”

“I’m not most people,” Tony replied. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. Might as well go all out and do more than just donate.”

Peter grinned despite the fact that his throat still felt tight and his breath was shallow. “I… thank you,” he whispered.

“No problem. Now pay attention, this episode’s a good one.”

\--------------------

Peter had expected it to be a lot more awkward, living with the Avengers. Like, it was a team of _superheroes_ , all living together under one roof. He half expected for the Hulk to come crashing through the ceiling or Captain America to appear and give him a lecture about the American way.

It turned out the Avengers were a lot more domestic than the news made them out to be.

It started three days after Peter moved into the Tower. He was sitting with Tony one morning, eating breakfast in the ‘team’ kitchen, when Hawkeye walked in wearing sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt with a Santa Claus dog on it.

“What the hell is that?” Tony asked. Hawkeye glanced down and shrugged.

“Found it in the back of my closet. Didn’t have anything else to wear. Didn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities with my nudity.”

“I have a sex tape, nothing offends me,” Tony replied nonchalantly. Peter grimaced into his eggs.

“You seriously have a sex tape?” Hawkeye collapsed in a chair and poured a mug of coffee for himself. “Hey, kid, pass the eggs. Oh, and you can call me Clint now, just so you know.”

Black Widow—‘Natasha’ now, Peter remembered—showed up half an hour later wearing running gear with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. “Who’s the kid?” she asked.

“Peter? Peter Parker? You… met him like a month ago?” Clint replied.

Natasha shrugged and nodded in greeting to Peter. “You’re bruised,” she said matter-of-factly. “Here.” She pulled a small tube from one of the drawers and tossed it on the table next to him. “Put that on every day and they’ll fade faster.”

“Oh… thanks.” Peter turned to smile at her, but she was already gone.

Peter was pretty sure he had gotten over his Captain America hero worship. At least, he had been sure until the Captain walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

“Ohmygod it’s Captain America again,” he whispered under his breath.

“You have _got_ to get over that obsession thing,” Tony whispered back. Peter grinned at him.

“Don’t tell me you never went through a Captain America phase?”

“My father was Howard Stark, the guy that practically _created_ Captain America.”

“Who is right over here and can hear everything you’re saying,” Captain America called from the fridge.

Peter blushed and buried his head in his hands. “Oops,” he muttered.

Captain America sat across from him at the table and extended his hand. “We’ve already met, but I'm Steve,” he introduced himself. Peter reached across and grasped his hand nervously.

“Peter.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you all right? You look like you’ve been in some kind of accident.”

And that led to an awkward conversation about why Peter was there and what Frank had done to him. Tony did most of the explaining while Peter picked at his toast and stared at the table. At one point he glanced up and saw that the other two men at the table looked furious.

“What’s your former foster dad’s name?” Clint growled when Tony was done.

“Frank Simonoff,” Peter replied. “I think he’s in jail, if that helps—”

“JARVIS hacked into the police department records and is programmed to tell me if his status changes,” Tony told them. “If he makes bail or gets out we’ll know.”

Captain— _Steve_ , shit, Steve—nodded and helped himself to some eggs. “Don’t worry, Peter,” he said seriously. “You’re safe here.”

Peter sure as hell felt safer.

Peter got to meet the rest of the team later, down on the gym floor. “That’s the Falcon, Sam Wilson,” Steve pointed out to him. Sam was sparring with a metal-armed guy with longish brown hair in one of the many sparring arenas they had in the Tower. “That’s Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky and Sam paused long enough to shout a quick greeting and then they were off again. Clint settled in on a couch off to the side of the room and whistled lowly.

“I sure do love a man in uniform!” he called. Bucky flipped him off without looking away from the fight.

“For whatever reason, Barnes and Barton are dating,” Tony whispered to Peter. “It’s really weird, just roll with it.”

Peter nodded silently. He’d been focusing on his breathing and was having trouble talking right now, but he kept reminding himself that he was safe, he could do this, this was supposed to be _easy_ now…

But the lingering thought that Tony would get sick of him and throw him out kept popping up in the back of his mind and Peter couldn’t quite seem to shake it yet. He hoped that went away with time.

Fortunately, the more he settled in and met the team, the more that thought was pushed out of his head. Tony gave him the grand tour of all the private floors, complete with Peter’s new room. He’d kept it in neutral colors—black furniture and gray carpet, with freshly- painted navy blue walls. “I don’t know about you, but when I was a teenager I used to hate the sun every morning,” Tony had said. “At least this way it’ll lessen the light. I’ll put in curtains later, if you want.”

Peter grinned and made his way to the bed. “Pretty sure this is the largest bedroom I’ve had all to myself in… well, ever,” he admitted. “I’m so used to sharing it with the other kids. This is great.”

Tony told him he could hang as many posters as he wanted, too, so Peter got online and found Velvet Underground and Ramones and _Dogtown and Z-Boys_ and _Blow-Up_ posters, along with a dozen other bands and movies and even Albert Einstein, and hung them all up with Scotch tape just because he could. He printed out pictures of Gwen, and Harry, and his parents and aunt and uncle, and started a collage of sorts on one wall above his desk where he could see it any time he wanted.

“I’ve never been able to decorate my room,” he confessed to Tony one night while they hung up pictures in his room. Peter’s ribs were still really sore, and he was having a hard time moving around and hanging the pictures, so Tony had volunteered to help.

“You can put whatever the hell you want in here,” Tony replied. “When I was a kid I used to have all sorts of movie and band posters hanging up. Wore holes in the walls from all the tape I used, had to paint over them again multiple times. I get it.”

That was probably the best part—Tony always seemed to ‘get it’. He understood when there were days when Peter didn’t feel like saying anything, or days where Peter felt he had to say everything all at once. He understood when Peter couldn’t eat or when he emptied half the fridge in one sitting. He understood when Peter had a panic attack and ended up watching cancelled TV shows at 3 am.

Tony Stark, in Peter’s mind, was a godsend.

\--------------------

_“You lazy piece of shit!”_

_Peter winced as his head hit the cabinet underneath the sink. He heard a piece of wood crack and made sure his hand was wedged between his head and the cabinet for the next kick._

_When it came, Peter gasped and groaned softly. “Come on, punk, get up!” Frank was laughing like it was some kind of sick game. Peter struggled to his feet and grabbed one of the beer bottles off the counter. He threw it at Frank as hard as he could, but his vision was blurring and he couldn’t aim right. It hit the wall behind Frank and shattered. Peter watched the liquid drip off the walls for a second before another smack sent him to the floor again._

_“You’ve never been anything, you’ll never be anything,” Frank spat. He wiped his mouth and loomed over Peter. “You’re trash, kid, no one will ever want you. Trash.”_

_Peter let out a choked gasp when Frank kicked his stomach again. He heard something inside him crack this time. It felt like a rib. Peter noted dazedly that he should probably block his stomach next time to make sure one of his bones didn’t puncture an organ._

_“I outta put you out of your misery,” Frank was saying now._

_Peter refused to cry, refused to beg this asshole for his life. He stumbled to his knees and swung hard at Frank’s dick._

_Frank roared with rage and kneed Peter in the chin. “Little shit face,” he growled. “Little faggot.”_

_Ah, yes. Frank’s favorite insult for him. Peter spat at Frank’s feet and felt a grim sort of satisfaction when it landed on his toe. Frank kicked him again and Peter let his arm block the move. It hurt like hell, but at least it didn’t break his ribs any more than before._

_And then Frank was kicking, over and over, and Peter felt blood spew out when he coughed. He was gasping for breath and tasted metal in his mouth. Frank grabbed a handful of Peter’s hair, dragged him up, and threw him face first into the edge of the counter—_

Peter woke up gasping with a sharp stabbing pain in his side. He clutched at sweat-soaked bed sheets and struggled to regain his breath.

“J-JARVIS?” he stammered. Tony had formally introduced him to the AI a few days ago and had instructed JARVIS to answer Peter whenever he called. Right now Peter just needed confirmation he was still at the Tower.

“I am here, young sir,” JARVIS replied. “It is 4:17 am and the temperature outside is fifty-two degrees. You are in the Avengers Tower and you are safe. Shall I call sir to come help you?”

“N-no, I’ll be fine,” Peter managed. He took several more deep breaths until he felt his heart slow. “Does anyone else get nightmares?” he asked once he felt calmer. Honestly, he was a little embarrassed now.

“Every Avenger currently residing in this Tower has had a nightmare at one point or another,” JARVIS informed him. “To be precise, they have all had more than thirty each since arriving here to live. Some are more frequent than others, of course.”

“Does Tony get them often?”

Peter felt JARVIS hesitate. “Sir suffers from panic attacks and a severe nightmare disorder,” the AI finally said. “He does not sleep every night at this point, but rather waits until he crashes from exhaustion. So, in short, yes. Very often.”

For some reason that made Peter feel a bit better. He tested out his side carefully and lay back in bed when he assured himself that nothing was broken.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” he murmured. He wasn’t sure if AIs appreciated polite manners, but his aunt would probably come and haunt him if he didn’t thank the program.

“You are most welcome, young sir. Try and get some rest.”

\--------------------

“Sir, you asked me to inform you when Peter had a nightmare.”

Tony leaned back on the bench and rubbed his eyes. “Was it just now?” he asked JARVIS.

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS replied. “He is attempting to sleep again now. I believe the worst has passed.”

“Good, that’s good.” Tony glared at the machine he was working on and set the wrench down. There was no way he’d finish this tonight. “Guess I should turn in, huh?”

“That would be for the best, sir. Just as I have been telling you for the past five hours.”

Tony grinned and stripped the gloves off. “Alright, but food first. I'm starved.”

The kitchen light was on when Tony arrived at the communal floor. Steve was sitting at the table, munching on a bowl of cereal and reading the daily news on his tablet. Everyone liked to think Steve had no concept of technology and was like some kind of lost puppy in this new century, but the truth was that the supersoldier had caught on faster than anyone Tony ever knew.

“Cap, what in God’s name are you doing up at this ungodly hour?”

Steve glanced up and smiled. “Just woke up,” he replied. “I was going to go out for a run. Care to join me?”

Tony made a face and stole the box of cereal from the other man. “Running. Eww. No thanks, I'm gonna head to bed after I get something inside my stomach.”

“You haven’t slept yet?” Steve frowned and handed Tony the milk. “You should start sleeping more now that Peter’s going to be staying with us.”

“Yeah, probably. I’ll get JARVIS to workup a sleep schedule.” Tony shoveled a bite into his mouth and leaned back in the chair. “Are you really going for a run this early?”

“Really really,” Steve replied. He grinned and took a bite of cereal smugly. Tony grimaced.

“You’re a freak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, all the posters in Peter's room that I mentioned were actually in Peter Parker's room in Amazing Spider-man. Cause those posters were awesome.
> 
> I'm really really invested in this story but I promise updates for the other fics are coming soon! Like, by the end of the week. (I know I always say that and it never happens, but it's a good start).
> 
> Also, I'm thinking about doing a Winterhawk Soulmark AU fic, so that should be coming soon, too. Keep on the lookout for that!!


	4. Know You're Not Alone

_“Mr. Stark?”_

Tony groaned and sat up on his elbows. “Who is this?” he asked sleepily. “And why are you calling me at an ungodly hour?”

 _“It’s… eight am, Mr. Stark,”_ the woman on the phone replied. _“And I’m Rebecca Wesler, I work with Child Services. I'm calling to discuss Peter Parker, the foster child currently in your care.”_

“Oh. Right. Sure, what’s wrong?”

_“Well, it’s been about a month, and usually around this time we do a check-up on the residence to see if it’s up to standards for caring for a child. We’ll also conduct a few interviews, just to see that everything’s… running smoothly.”_

That made sense. After the disaster that had been Peter’s last foster family, CPS would want to be extra careful the next time around. Especially since any more ‘situations’ like that could lead to a lawsuit.

“Okay, that’s fine.” Tony scrubbed his face and sat up further. “Uh, Peter’s in school right now, first day back and all that, so unless you don’t need him here…”

 _“We were planning to come by at around 2:30 this afternoon,”_ the woman interrupted. _“As long as that doesn’t conflict with your schedule?”_

“Hang on. JARVIS?”

“There are no meetings currently scheduled for that time,” JARVIS replied.

“Great. Fantastic. We’ll see you then,” Tony told the woman. He hung up the phone and collapsed in bed again.

“JARVIS, does Peter have a ride back from school?” he mumbled into his pillow.

“Master Parker asked me to inform you he will be taking the bus today,” JARVIS replied. “He wishes to spend as much time with Ms. Stacy as possible.”

Gwen had been coming over about twice a week, bringing homework for Peter and spending time studying with him. Still, Peter had confessed to Tony that he missed spending time with her.

“Okay. Great. I guess I should… probably clean up the Tower or something.” With a soft groan, Tony rolled out of bed and pulled a shirt on. “JARVIS, what do I have to do to meet the CPS requirements?”

“According to CPS standards, Master Parker must be in a home that is clean, well-managed, and stable, free of hazardous material.”

“So… I have a lot to do.”

“It would appear so, sir. There’s the workshop to clean, weapons in various stage of completion lying around the team communal floor, and you should discuss with the rest of the Avengers whether they are willing to assist in caring for Master Parker.”

He could do that. After coffee.

Steve was in the kitchen when Tony stumbled in, already making breakfast. He took one look and slid a full coffee cup over the counter.

“God bless you, Rogers,” Tony said honestly. He grabbed the coffee cup and inhaled, moaning quietly as he drank half the cup in one gulp. “You are a national treasure. Also, do you want to help me raise Peter?”

“I already do that,” Steve replied. “Without me, that boy would be starved to death by now.”

“Hey, I can cook,” Tony protested.

“Instant mac and cheese and cereal does not count as cooking, Tony.”

“Says you,” Tony muttered. He finished the coffee and went to refill it. “Anyways, Child Services is coming today to, I don’t know, observe and report or whatever. Apparently it’s standard procedure.”

Steve nodded. “It’s been a month, this is what the instruction and care book said would happen.”

Tony frowned in confusion. “Instruction book? There’s a manual for child care?”

Steve shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. “I looked up foster care online and found a few books on Amazon. I’ve been reading about how the system works and how to take care of a foster kid.”

“That’s… really impressive, actually.” Tony bit his lip and took another drink. “Mind loaning me those books?”

“Sure.” Steve grabbed a small stack of books and handed them to Tony. “Hey, does Peter have a ride home from school today?”

“He’s taking the bus with Gwen. He said he’d text me when he got out of school, though.” Steve handed Tony a plate of eggs and Tony dug in with another moan of pleasure.

“I should hire you as a full-time chef, you can just stay in here and cook for me all day long,” he groaned.

Steve smiled and refilled his cup again. “Sure thing, Tony. Whatever you say.”

\--------------------

“Oh my god, I never thought I would miss school but I _did_ ,” Peter sighed. He leaned back in his chair with a dopey smile and grinned at Gwen. “I thought I was gonna go crazy, stuck inside all day for a month.”

Gwen smiled and knocked Peter’s shoulder gently. “It’s good to have you back,” she said.

“Hey, Parker!”

Peter groaned and rolled his eyes. “And just like that I hate school again.”

Flash Thompson came sauntering up with his posse of friends, smirking cockily. “Heard you been out for a while. What’s the matter, Parker? You fall and stub your toe?”

“Lay off, Flash,” Gwen protested. “Just get out of here, okay?”

“What, Parker needs you to fight his battles now?” Flash bit back.

Peter ripped at his notebook paper quietly. “Come on, Flash, just lay off,” he said without looking up.

“You want me to stop?” Flash glared and leaned against the desk. “Come make me.”

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. “Never mind, let’s just leave,” he said to Gwen. She nodded and they stood to find another place to sit in the classroom.

Flash pushed Peter’s shoulder as he and Gwen passed. “That’s right Parker, keep running,” he called. His friends laughed and jostled Peter some more. Peter clenched his jaw and reminded himself that it wasn’t worth it.

“Go run back to Daddy, Parker,” Flash called. Peter froze.

“Peter, come on, let’s just go.” Gwen tugged on his arm anxiously, but Peter couldn’t hear her.

He turned and stalked towards Flash. “What the hell did you just say?” he asked. “Go back to my dad?”

Flash smirked again and crossed his arms. Peter wanted to rip them off.

“Which dad would that be?” Peter demanded. “The one that _died_ in a plane crash, the conservative Christian that beat me with a Bible, the one that a month ago tried to _kill me_ in a drunken rage? _That one, Flash?”_

Flash wasn’t smirking anymore, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to care. Gwen tugged at his arm harder, shepherding him away from the group. “Come on, Peter, let’s go, okay?” she was murmuring. Peter nodded blankly and allowed her to lead him away.

Outside, Peter leaned against the building and took a deep breath. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“I know, shh,” Gwen murmured. She leaned her head against his shoulder and waited while he calmed down.

“It’s just… he makes me so _angry_ , like he has any fucking idea what’s been happening.”

“He’s an asshole, don’t even think about him. He’s not worth it.”

Peter nodded and raked his fingers through his hair again. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay, let’s go back in. Let’s go to class.”

Gwen took his arm and leaned against him as they went back inside. Peter made sure to sit on the other side of the class from Flash and his goons and kept his head down during class.

Aside from that, the rest of the day went by pretty seamlessly. Or, it could have gone worse. At least Peter wasn’t dreading going home. For the first time in years, he felt excited about leaving school and taking the bus home.

“Tony said he’d teach me how to make this Italian pasta thing his mom taught him tonight, and I have full access to JARVIS’s cameras so I can watch the battles they go on any time I want!” Peter told Gwen. “And Steve’s so great, I mean he’s _Captain America_ first off, but he makes these ridiculously good waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, and he helps me with my history homework because _he lived it_ , he was there for the Great Depression and the World Wars and all that, and he’s teaching me some self-defense stuff even though I can’t do much yet ‘cause my ribs are still sore.”

Gwen smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re liking it there,” she said.

Peter grinned. “It’s pretty great, yeah.”

The bus dropped him off a block away from the Tower, and Peter walked the rest of the way. By the time he arrived, people were filing out for the end of the workday. He pushed past them and made his way to the private elevator.

“Welcome back, Master Parker,” JARVIS said over the speakers when Peter stepped in. “There is an agent from the Child Protective Services upstairs, speaking to the team.”

“Oh god, did I do something wrong?” Peter felt a spike of panic rush down his spine.

“Of course not,” JARVIS reassured him. “She is conducting a general inspection of the Tower and its residents to ensure your safety.”

“Oh.” Peter leaned back against the rail and nodded. “Okay. Cool.”

“Indeed, sir.” JARVIS sounded almost sarcastic. Peter grinned. “The team is with the CPS agent in the communal kitchen.”

“Thanks, J.” The doors opened and Peter peeked around the corner nervously.

Tony grinned when he saw Peter. “Hey, kid, this is Rebecca. She’s here to… inspect, or whatever.”

Rebecca was a prim, middle-aged woman with a tight bun and official- looking clipboard. “Good afternoon, Peter,” she said with a nod. Peter nodded back and sat on the couch.

“So… did you fail?” he asked Tony. Tony shrugged and leaned back on the couch beside him.

Rebecca smiled. “Everything looks good so far,” she answered. “I just have a few questions for you, Peter.”

“Okay. Sure.” Peter dropped his bag and followed Rebecca nervously into the kitchen. Tony shot him a thumbs-up as he passed.

Rebecca settled in a chair comfortably and gestured for Peter to do the same. He sat gingerly, mindful of his still- sore ribs, and fiddled with his thumbs while she wrote something down.

“Okay, Peter, it’s been about a month. How are you feeling here?” she asked.

Peter shrugged and scratched his cheek, suddenly nervous. “I like it,” he finally replied in a quiet voice.

“Everyone treating you okay?”

“Yep.”

Rebecca glanced up at him and flashed a reassuring smile. “Care to elaborate?”

Peter shifted in the seat and shrugged again. “I… I don’t know, they just accepted me really fast,” he replied. “Tony and I watch movies and talk about various experiments he and Bruce are working on, and sometimes they let me help there, and Steve helps with, like, homework and actual food, ‘cause he says otherwise Tony and I would live off ramen and coffee alone. Oh, and Clint and Bucky are teaching me how to shoot and Natasha says once I’m all healed up she’ll show me self- defense. And Sam is teaching me video games, like Call of Duty and Halo.”

Rebecca was writing furiously now. “Anyone else live here?”

“Yeah, Thor sometimes. He switches between here, New Mexico, and Asgard.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows shot up. “Asgard?” she asked.

Peter frowned. He couldn’t remember if CPS knew there was a demi-god living in the Tower sometimes. “Yeah, it’s… his birthplace,” he said lamely. “It’s, uh, pretty far from here.”

Rebecca nodded and tapped her pen against the table. “How about school?” she asked next. “I heard today was your first day back.”

“It was okay. Tony drove me in, and I took the bus back. I’ve still got some catching up to do but I'm mostly square with homework and stuff.”

Peter glanced in the other room while Rebecca wrote and saw Steve watching him. The supersoldier smiled and nodded towards Rebecca, and Peter turned back with a faint blush.

Rebecca stayed for about a half an hour, talking with Peter and rigorously taking notes. Peter stamped down his anxiety and opened up to the woman about living with the Avengers and how he was healing.

“Okay, looks like everything checks out,” she said finally. Peter immediately stood and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. “I just wanted to inform you real quick about Mr. Simonoff’s status.”

Peter opened his mouth to tell her that really wasn’t necessary, but Tony came out of nowhere and leaned against the counter next to him. “Kid, why don’t you go do your homework?” he said quietly. “I can handle this.”

Peter nodded gratefully and made a beeline for the living room. He collapsed on the couch and grabbed his backpack. “Holy shit, I am so glad that’s over,” he muttered. Clint knocked his shoulder and grinned.

“You got the easy part. She’s been here for almost two hours, inspecting the Tower and scrutinizing every detail,” he replied. Bucky nodded from where he sat on Clint’s other side.

“She saw the workshop and just about had a heart attack before Tony explained that he’d been teaching you proper procedure and you never did anything too dangerous,” he added.

“I’m going to see what she’s talking about,” Steve said. He stood up and headed for the kitchen, smoothing Peter’s hair absently as he passed. Peter smiled and curled into the couch to start on his math homework.

\--------------------

“I wanted to inform you that Mr. Simonoff has posted bail.” The woman—Rachel? Reagan? Tony really needed to get better at names—shuffled her papers professionally and folded her arms on the table. Tony leaned back in his chair and rubbed his fingers over his mouth.

“Okay. Right. So, what can I do about it?” he asked. “Restraining order, house arrest, dropping him off the Statue of Liberty?”

The woman frowned. “I would advise against saying things like that, Mr. Stark. Someone might hear that and take offense to it.”

“Okay, but he beat a kid half to death,” Tony argued. “I feel like anyone that took offense to that would have bigger problems of their own to worry about. Like why they’re supporting a child abuser.”

“This is… a very sensitive subject,” the woman said after a moment. “On the one hand, what Mr. Simonoff did was reprehensible. On the other hand, he still cares for three other foster kids and provides a lot for them. Besides, it _was_ just the one time.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “So, what?” he snorted. “We should just let it go? Slap a warning label on his file and let him carry on with his day like nothing ever happened?”

The woman shook her head quickly. “No, of course not,” she reassured. “It’s just that there are certain procedures and we have to follow them very carefully. If someone were to hear you threatening Mr. Simonoff’s life and something were to happen to the man…”

“Alright, I got it, keep my murderous rage to myself.” Tony leaned forward and leveled a stare at the woman. “But what can we do to protect Peter?”

The agent glanced at her papers again. “Obviously you can file a restraining order,” she said. “That would be the easiest choice. Go through the courts so they know it’s legit, and make sure Mr. Simonoff doesn’t know Peter’s current address.”

“He knows where Peter goes to school, though,” Steve interrupted. Tony turned and saw him leaning against the doorframe.

“I… yes, he does know that,” the woman admitted. She glanced up at Steve. “Are you taking responsibility for Peter, as well?”

“We all are,” Steve replied. “If Peter’s in any kind of danger we all need to know about it.”

“We’ll file a restraining order and ensure that Mr. Simonoff is not allowed to leave his designated areas,” the woman replied. “I promise, Peter is in no danger right now.”

Tony could tell that Steve didn’t believe her, but the supersoldier stayed quiet and allowed her to pass. She said goodbye to Peter and promised she would be back in another month, and then she was gone.

Clint leaned over the couch and arched an eyebrow. “Not buying it, huh?” he asked Steve. Peter glanced over.

“What’s up?” he asked, brow furrowed.

Tony considered lying for half a second before he remembered that this was Peter and the kid was smart enough to figure it out either way. “Your ex- foster dad, Frank? He’s out on bail right now.”

Peter groaned and fell back against the armrest. “Fantastic,” he muttered.

“No one will come near you,” Natasha promised. She looked a little murderous, and Tony made sure to program JARVIS to keep the Avengers in if they started swearing vengeance against the man. “If he does, we will be ready.”

“Yeah, but you guys can’t keep an eye on him the whole time,” Peter replied. Natasha smirked.

“Who says we can’t?”

“You’re forgetting there are two assassins in this room alone,” Bucky added. “And Clint.”

“Why am I not included in the assassin category?” Clint protested. Bucky grinned and kissed Clint’s temple.

“Because you tripped over a chair leg and fell on your face yesterday,” he replied. Clint sulked and curled against Bucky’s side.

“We won’t let him get anywhere near you,” Tony said as he approached the couch. He pushed Peter’s shoulder until the boy slid over to make room for him and sat down, settling with his feet on the coffee table. “Now, take a break from homework and come watch _Get Smart._ ”

It took another three months of Peter living in the Tower before he saw Frank again. The trial against him continued, but the prosecutor needed Peter to testify about what Frank had done. So, in early November, Peter threw on his best suit and headed down to the courthouse with the team to give his statement.

Frank looked terrible. His hair was falling out, and he’d gained at least thirty pounds in his beer belly, and he was starting to resemble Jabba the Hutt face-wise. Peter took great pleasure in that.

“ _Sah kootah day. Koos nooma_ ,” Clint muttered as they entered the courtroom. Peter snorted and covered his mouth quickly before someone could call him out on it.

“Was that _Star Wars_?” Bucky looked incredibly done with Clint. “Are you really quoting _Star Wars_ in the courtroom?”

“I’m so happy I’ve nerded you up enough that you know it’s _Star Wars_ ,” Clint replied gleefully. Bucky rolled his eyes and pushed Clint into the bench in the front row. The other Avengers filed in after, and Peter headed for the prosecutor to take the stand.

Frank looked ready to jump over the table and murder Peter by the time he was done with his testimony. Peter glared back, unafraid. He had a team of _superheroes_ on his side now, and besides, Natasha’s self-defense training had really paid off.

 _Though I'm not sure if I could lift him enough to flip him over the table,_ he thought ruefully as he stepped down and joined Tony on the bench. Frank’s eyes followed him the whole way.

The trial ended pretty quickly after that, and the judge dismissed the jury to debate. Tony patted Peter’s shoulder as they left.

“That was a good job, kid,” he grinned. “I thought that guy was gonna actually try and jump you.”

“I’d have tasered him before he made it three steps,” Natasha assured him.

“I can’t imagine he’d be that stupid,” Sam replied. “Let’s go find some lunch, I'm starving.”

After three hours, the jury came back with ‘guilty on all counts’. Peter grinned and waggled his eyebrows daringly at Frank as he was led away.

Apparently Frank really was that stupid, because he broke away from the guard leading him off and lunged for Peter. Peter stepped back, but there was no need. True to her word, Natasha shot out and tasered Frank with a wristband that appeared out of nowhere. Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the back of the pew as he watched Frank twitch.

“Ten bucks says he wets his pants,” Clint called. When Frank did, Bucky grudgingly handed the archer his money.

Eventually the guard managed to detangle Frank and lug him away, totally unconscious. Natasha smirked and slipped the wristband into her purse again.

“I needed that,” Peter confessed. Tony clapped his shoulder and pushed him out of the pew lightly.

“Me, too,” he replied. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Peter smiled. He liked the sound of that.

\--------------------

Peter’s first real holiday at the Tower was Thanksgiving. He’d been living there for almost four months now, and Steve insisted that they had to have a real ‘family’ dinner and celebrate their newest addition.

“It’ll be good for team bonding,” he told Tony again. The genius was slouched over the bar counter, glaring at Steve and sipping his fourth cup of coffee.

“Steve. It’s nine am,” Tony deadpanned. Steve rolled his eyes and handed Peter a plate with a cinnamon roll on it when the boy stumbled in.

“Thanks Steve you’re the best is there coffee?” Peter mumbled in a rush. Steve slid a cup over to him and he grabbed at it like a little kid, inhaling deeply. “Sweet caffeine. I missed you,” he moaned.

“You’ve created a monster,” Clint said to Tony. “That kid’ll be pumping that shit through his veins by the time he’s thirty.”

“Then he’ll still be five years behind me on that,” Tony replied.

Natasha, Bruce, and Sam were already on the couch, watching the parade and arguing over which float was the best. Steve had apparently been up since six am—and Tony was convinced the man in front of him was actually a robot, because there was _no way_ Steve got up that early, Steve hated mornings—and had been cooking the turkey and side dishes all morning.

“Do you need any help?” Tony asked. Steve smiled and handed him a plate.

“Not right now, thanks. Here, eat something.”

Tony grabbed the cinnamon roll and stuffed half in his mouth. “’Fank ‘oo,” he mumbled around the bread. Clint grimaced and grabbed two cups of coffee, heading towards the loveseat where Bucky was lounging.

Tony would have never thought those two would last. When Bucky first arrived at the Tower, he was moody, paranoid, and borderline homicidal half the time. Clint tended to avoid drama like the plague, so Tony had been surprised when they struck up a friendship that eventually turned in to something more. Now Bucky was more back to the man Steve had known during the war—joking with the team, throwing snarky comments every chance he got. It was bizarre, but Tony wasn’t complaining.

Besides, it gave him just a little bit of hope about him and Steve. They’d been dancing around each other for a long time, and Tony was getting sick of it. _Time to put up or shut up_ , he thought to himself. _Don’t let Steve slip away._

“Are we having sweet potatoes?” Peter asked as he snuck another cinnamon roll. “I haven’t had those in years.”

“Steve’s got a whole four-course menu, don’t worry,” Natasha called from the couch. Steve shot her a glare and refilled Tony’s cup.

“We’re feeding fourteen people, one of which is a demi-god and two with supersoldier serums and increased metabolism,” Bruce replied. “Plus we’ve got a teenage boy. We’re going to need a lot more than just four courses.”

“Which is why I bought three turkeys,” Steve said. “And I'm making every Thanksgiving recipe I could find online and then some.”

“I can help you make something,” Peter offered. “I’m pretty good in the kitchen, as long as you give me a recipe.”

For the rest of the day, the team lounged around on the communal floor watching the parade, then the dog show, then flipping back and forth between the football games that were on. Peter helped Steve, and Tony eventually offered to chop vegetables as long as he didn’t have to move from his barstool. Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy arrived at about one, and Thor brought Jane and Darcy in by two. Tony could tell Peter was anxious about so many people all at once, but he relaxed soon enough once he figured out that everyone in the room was friendly.

They sat down to eat around four, and since Tony was feeling strangely sentimental about the whole situation he sat next to Peter and made sure he got extra sweet potatoes and that he never got too nervous about being around so many people.

Fortunately, Peter seemed fine. He laughed and joked with the rest of the team, and even shared a few stories from school whenever someone asked him a question.

“And then the mixture just caught on fire, and my teacher just kind of shook his head and grabbed the fire extinguisher, except it was _empty_ so then there was just a table on fire and everyone’s screaming and running around and my teacher looked like he was ready to kill me,” Peter finished. He was grinning, cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment, but he looked like he was enjoying himself. Tony smiled and leaned back in his chair.

And then the Avengers alarm went off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! As promised, all of my current fics are now updated as a gift to you (I even included a Thanksgiving scene in this one!). I know there's horrible things that have happened and are happening right now in this nation and important protests are being held, and I am in support of them all, but I still believe that Thanksgiving at its core is a time for gratefulness and spending time with people you cherish. So I hope you're enjoying the day with your loved ones (even if they aren't related by blood), and I wish you all many happy days through the end of the winter season and into the new year (and let's hope 2015 is a better one, hmm?)
> 
> Signs of Life will most likely be updated within the next few weeks. Next week and the week after will be very busy for me since it's finals week and I have tests and projects I need to take care of, but afterwards I'm on winter break for like 5 weeks so I should start updating more frequently then. Until that time, feel free to send prompts to add to my list!!


	5. I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home

Peter tapped the rail on the hospital bed and glanced over at the doctors outside. They were speaking in low, hushed tones, but it looked urgent. He sighed and glanced at the bed.

After the alarm had gone off during Thanksgiving dinner, the Avengers had suited up to go handle a villain who had apparently taken control of the massive floats they’d been using in the parade. Normally, that would have been hilarious, but he’d somehow managed to make them sentient and frankly nothing was more terrifying than a fifty-foot tall, fire-breathing Hello Kitty balloon.

Peter had been ordered to stay in the Tower, but at one point he snuck outside to try and catch a glimpse of Tony in the suit. He was doing most of the fighting alongside Thor, Sam, and Rhodey since most of the balloons were aerial, and Peter couldn’t help but feel nervous. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been all that much to see from his position, so he’d shuffled back inside and pulled up a few security cameras JARVIS had locked into.

That was how he witnessed disaster strike around the end of the battle. Tony had let his guard down for a minute, thinking most of the balloons were taken care of, when the Toothless dragon balloon had floated up behind him and literally set him on fire before ripping his suit to shreds. Tony had fallen long and hard, and if Rhodey hadn’t been there to catch him at the last minute he would have died.

As it was, he’d been in the hospital now for over two weeks in an induced coma while they rushed to fix his internal organs and broken bones.

Peter had barely left his bedside. He would’ve stayed all day if he could, but Steve practically dragged him to school every day and picked him up every afternoon to make sure he got food in his system first. Peter had agreed to the compromise as long as he was allowed to spend his nights in the hospital with Tony. No one put up much of an argument there, so Peter currently had the unoccupied bed in Tony’s room.

At first, Peter had been pissed. First his parents, then Aunt May and Uncle Ben, followed by years of shitty and abusive foster families, and then, just when he’d finally found a decent place with people he liked, one of them had to go and get himself torn up by an inflatable dragon. Peter was angry at everyone—at Tony, at his parents, at CPS, at the villain who’d created the fucking dragon.

Now he just wanted Tony to open his eyes.

“Oh, man, you’re gonna love this part,” he said to Tony’s unconscious form. “This scene’s my favorite, it’s so fucking good.”

“What god-awful movie are you forcing him to watch now?” Clint asked from the doorway. Peter glanced up and nodded in greeting.

“It’s called _Bridesmaids_ ,” he replied. “Gwen showed it to me, and it’s hilarious.”

“Your taste in movies is atrocious.” Clint rolled his eyes and sat in one of the available chairs.

“Coming from the guy that marathon watches _Lost_ for eight hours straight.”

“Hey, that show’s timeless.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it seemed like it would never fucking end.”

“Break it up, ladies,” Bucky interrupted. He looked Tony up and down before sitting in the chair beside Clint. “Any change?”

Peter shook his head. “Nah, the doctors said it could be a while before he wakes up.”

“He’ll wake up,” Bucky reassured him. “Now go get dressed. Steve’ll want you ready when he comes to take you to school.”

Peter groaned but did as he was told, shuffling to the bathroom with a change of clothes in hand. “Can’t he just let me miss one day?” he griped. “Tony might wake up while I'm gone.”

“He could wake up any other day that you’re gone, too,” Clint called back. “So get your ass to school, kid.”

Peter was restless all day. He was called out in math class for being distracted, and his English teacher voiced concerns with him after class about his work ethic. Peter couldn’t exactly bring himself to care—not when one of the only people that vaguely resembled a father figure and actually seemed to give a damn about him was lying in a hospital bed in a coma.

Around lunchtime, Peter was picking at his food in the library when he heard someone come up from behind him. “Hey, Parker, you got a minute?”

Peter sighed and turned to shoot Flash a glare. “Really not in the mood, Thompson,” he bit out. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

Flash ignored him and sat across from him at the table. “Look, I heard you were living with that Stark guy now and it said on the news he was in the hospital,” Flash said. “I just…I mean…” He trailed off, looking down guiltily. “I wanted to say sorry, man,” he finally muttered. “About everything. About that crack a couple months ago about your dad, about this guy being in the hospital. I mean… it sucks, man.”

Peter was stunned. He was pretty sure that was the nicest thing Flash had ever said to… well, anyone. “Um… thanks?” he managed. “I guess you didn’t know, or whatever, about… my dads.”

Flash smiled, still looking a bit guilty. “I didn’t,” he confessed. “I mean, I knew you were in the system, but I just assumed… never mind, it doesn’t matter. It was a shitty thing to say, okay?”

Peter nodded and tried to smile back. “I… yeah, apology accepted.”

“I just know what that’s like, you know?” Flash suddenly blurted out. He bit his lip, grimaced, and tried again. “I mean, obviously not that bad. But… I mean, I guess everyone’s got their demons, you know?”

Well, shit. Now Peter sort of felt bad, too. “I know now,” he replied.

Flash nodded, glancing around the library. “Anyways, I gotta go,” he said. “But, yeah, I wanted to let you know. It’s over. All the… the shit, man. From me.”

“That might be the nicest gift anyone’s ever given me,” Peter said. Flash grinned and gave a mock salute before heading towards the door to meet his ever-present group of friends. Peter watched him go and smiled, feeling a little proud of himself.

Now if only Tony would wake up so he could tell him.

\--------------------

Peter’s anxiety was shooting through the roof.

Over three weeks and not a peep from Tony, not even a flick of his finger. Peter had taken to dragging a chair over so he could sit right next to Tony’s head and stayed there until he literally collapsed from exhaustion in the empty bed. It felt like every week he had some form of a panic or anxiety attack—whenever he looked over at the machines or thought about what would happen if Tony didn’t wake up, his heart started pounding and he lost the ability to breathe. It was exhausting.

Steve had joined him in his daily vigils by Tony’s bed, even if he claimed he was really there for Peter’s sake. Peter knew there was something up with those two, but right now he didn’t think about it because his brain couldn’t process anything except _oh god Tony please please wake up._

The woman from Child Services came by and tried to convince Peter that he would be “better suited” in another home, away from the violence and danger that came with living with the Avengers. Peter had flat-out refused, and that combined with the other teammates backing him up had been enough for her to back off for now. But since Tony was his primary caregiver and he was currently in a coma, it wouldn’t take long for her to swoop back in and try to take him away. Peter couldn’t handle moving again, not when he’d finally found a home and a family.

“He’s not waking up,” Peter said as soon as Steve came in to get him for school one morning. Peter looked up, clearly distressed. “He’s just not waking up, I don’t get it,” Peter continued.

“He’ll wake up soon,” Steve promised. He’d been saying that every day now for a week and a half. The words were starting to lose meaning.

“What if he doesn’t?” Peter asked. “What if he never wakes up and I'm sent off to some other shitty home and everything turns terrible again, I just got here with you guys and I actually like it and now Tony isn’t waking up and—”

“Peter, easy, shh,” Steve soothed. He sat next to Peter and carefully rubbed comforting circles in his back. “He’ll be just fine, you’ll see.”

Peter just tapped the metal rail anxiously. “Do you think… I know you don’t really agree with this, but can I please stay here today?” he begged. “Please? I just feel like something’s going to happen, and it’s not like I’d be able to focus anyways.”

Steve sighed and glanced over at Tony’s bed. “Okay,” he finally replied. “But you have to text Gwen and ask her to bring your homework and classwork over. You can’t fall behind in school just because…” He trailed off and swallowed hard. “Be sure to text Gwen,” he finished instead.

Peter nodded and leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder. “What if he doesn’t?” he whispered in a broken voice.

Steve just smoothed Peter’s hair back and stared at the bed silently.

\--------------------

Four weeks and no movement from Tony.

They had moved him out of the hospital and back into the Tower, where he was currently resting in his room. Peter took to sleeping on the couch in his room rather than leave Tony’s side for even a second longer than he had to.

He stopped talking in class, stopped listening to anyone except Gwen. Even Flash had tried to get him out of his apparent stupor. Nothing.

The team was trying as hard as they could to cheer Peter up. Bucky and Clint made him watch movies with them one night, Natasha took him down to the gym to practice sparring and even almost let him win once, Bruce offered him the lab anytime he wanted, Thor suggested they take a trip to Asgard, and Sam recommended a few good therapists for him to talk to. Peter wasn’t swayed. Tony was the one that had taken him in when he had nothing. He was the one that had opened his home without a second thought, who had given Peter a place he felt comfortable and safe in with a family he felt cared by.

Tony was the closest thing he had to a father, and Peter wasn’t sure he could handle losing another one.

One day, Peter was resting in a chair by Tony’s side, reading aloud from a book Bucky had loaned him, because Bruce had suggested it might elicit a response from Tony.

“I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I want,” Peter read. He paused. “That sounds super creepy, I'm not gonna lie. I feel like I'm reading some sexual sadist’s diary. Like, I know it’s supposed to be romantic, but come on.”

“You said it,” a soft voice croaked. Peter’s head shot up and he looked around frantically, but no one was in the room. Cautiously, he glanced over at the bed.

Tony was staring back at him with half-lidded eyes and a small smile. Peter inhaled quickly and fumbled over until he was right by the bed. “You’re…” he managed.

Tony’s grin grew a bit. “What’s up, kid?”

“Oh my God,” Peter breathed. “Oh my God, you’re alive, oh my God, _Dad_!” With that, he stumbled onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Tony’s arms, burying his face in Tony’s shoulder.

He heard Tony huff a breath before he returned the hug carefully. “I’m okay, kid,” he murmured. “I’m okay.”

Peter nodded, too broken up to do anything more, and let out a harsh, choked sob. They stayed that way for a few minutes, silently taking in each other’s presence, until Steve arrived with a grin on his face.

“Tony, you’re awake!” he exclaimed. “JARVIS called me and said you were, but—”

Peter nodded again and laughed wetly. “He’s awake,” he managed. Releasing Tony from his grip, he slowly adjusted himself so he was resting on the pillow beside Tony and turned to grin at Steve. “He’s awake,” he repeated.

“Bruce is coming up now to check on you,” Steve told Tony. “You’ve been out for about four weeks.”

Tony frowned in confusion. “Four weeks? What the hell?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, it’s like two days before Christmas,” he replied. “This is, like, a Christmas miracle or something.”

“Peter, for Christ’s sake, we’re scientists,” Tony groaned. “Miracles don’t exist, I thought we established this.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but it’s been _four weeks_ ,” Peter emphasized. “That’s gotta count for something.”

Tony eyed him and Peter shrugged. Finally the genius sighed. “Alright, I’ll give you this one as a miracle,” he said. “But you owe me one scientific explanation.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say.” Peter waved a dismissive hand and sat up. “I smell pizza.”

Steve grinned. “It was a surprise,” he replied. “To try and get you to eat.”

Tony struggled to sit up and leveled a glare on Peter. “Have you not been eating?” he asked. “I swear to God, if you tell me you’ve been holing yourself up in here trying to get me to wake up and you haven’t been eating—”

“I’ve been eating!” Peter protested. “Just, you know, not as… regularly.”

Tony groaned and rubbed his forehead. “I want you to go get at least two slices of pizza, and then you’re going to come back here and eat them in front of me, got it?”

Peter nodded and flashed him a grin. “Sir, yes, sir.” With that, he hopped off the bed and raced down the hall towards the kitchen.

Tony sat up further and settled himself carefully. He glanced towards the door where Peter had disappeared and smiled tentatively. “Did you hear what he said?” he murmured.

Steve sat in the chair by the bed. “No, not really.”

“He called me ‘dad’ when I woke up.” Tony’s smile grew and he rubbed his mouth absently. “He was reading some awful book and I just reached for that sound and woke up, and he called me Dad.”

Steve smiled back and reached over to pat Tony’s hand. “I was waiting for him to realize that,” he replied. “Are you going to do anything about it?”

“You bet your ass I am. JARVIS,” he called. “Pull up the adoption papers. Fill them out, get them signed and sent in. Find a document to legally change Peter’s last name, give him that option if he wants it.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS said. “And may I just say it is pleasing to hear your voice again.”

“Aw, JARVIS, you do care.” Tony stood on shaky legs and waved Steve away when he stood to help. “No, don’t, I need to move around,” he said. “I’ve been sleeping way too long.”

“Okay, but just for a little bit,” Steve cautioned. “And you’re really going to adopt him?”

“As soon as the papers go through. I don’t want anyone to try and take him away.”

“You do know that means you’re in for the long run, right?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow. “When have I ever done anything half-way?” he asked. “That kid belongs here and you know it.”

Steve sat on the bed and watched Tony move, ready to spring forward if he stumbled or fell. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he watched Tony mutter to JARVIS about the arrangements needed to keep Peter in the Tower. He’d missed Tony terribly, but he’d been even more worried about Peter’s condition. Now that Tony was awake, maybe Peter would finally start getting back to normal.

Peter came in with three plates balanced in his hands, each stacked with slices of pizza. He grinned when he saw Tony moving around the room. “You’ve been in a coma for like a month, shouldn’t you be taking it slow?” he asked. Tony waved him off and stole one of the plates from him.

“Slow is for turtles and the elderly,” Tony replied. “And I’m not that old yet.”

“I don’t know, you’re getting up there.”

“Shut up.”

Peter flopped on the bed and handed Steve a plate. Steve smiled in thanks and ruffled Peter’s hair a bit. “Tony, come sit down,” he persuaded. “Sit and eat with us, you can run around later.”

Tony huffed but obliged them by sitting on the edge of the bed, feet tapping while he devoured his pizza. Peter flipped the TV on and switched over to some comedy movie that Steve had no interest in. Steve stole a glance over at Peter and Tony, who were curled up together on the bed, laughing about some awful joke they’d just heard on the movie. He smiled, carefully pulled out one of Tony’s tablets, and began tapping away in a silent communication with JARVIS.

\--------------------

“Sir, the official adoption papers have arrived for you to sign.”

Tony shot up off the couch and met the deliveryman at the elevator. He grabbed the envelope, hastily signed for them, and was in the kitchen again before the doors even closed. “Alright, let’s get these bad boys signed,” he grinned. Peter leaned over the counter and grabbed an apple from a bowl.

“Hey, are you sure—” he started. Tony held up one finger and cut him off.

“We are not going over this again,” he warned. “You’ve lived here for almost five months. You sleep in my Tower, you eat my food. You call me ‘dad’. You’re getting adopted whether you like it or not.”

Peter beamed and bit his apple. “Alright, fine,” he said mockingly. “If you insist.”

With a flourish, Tony signed the papers and slipped them back in the envelope. “There,” he said proudly. “You’re officially my kid. Oh, and I got the papers to change your name, but that’s only if you want to.”

Peter blinked and swallowed his apple. “R-really?”

Tony took those papers out and slid them in front of Peter. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said quietly. “It’s just a… you know, a thing people do.”

Peter slid over the counter and grabbed Tony into a fierce hug. “Yes!” he cried out. “Are you kidding me? I could be Peter Benjamin _Stark_ , that has a nice ring to it, or Parker-Stark works just as well. And God, no one would ever pick on me again with the name Stark attached to me. Plus, since you’re my dad and all—” He paused and pulled back fractionally. “Wait, I never asked if it was cool if I called you my dad.”

Tony rolled his eyes and slid the papers over to Peter. “Of course you can call me that,” he muttered. “Now sign the damn papers and let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

Peter signed the papers ‘Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark’ and handed them to Tony, who signed as a witness and sealed them back in the envelope. “Get me a deliveryman to send these out, JARVIS,” he called. “Now, let’s celebrate with burgers and grape soda.”

“Sir, there is a deliveryman on the way up now,” JARVIS interrupted. Tony frowned in confusion and made his way to the elevator.

“That was awfully fast,” he said.

“The deliveryman appears to have something in his hands addressed to Captain Rogers,” JARVIS replied. “Shall I contact the captain and inform him of his package?”

“Yeah, get him down here.” Tony signed for the envelope for Steve and handed his own envelope to the man with a large tip to compensate. Steve appeared, slightly out of breath, just as Tony turned the oven on for the burgers.

“JARVIS said something came for me. Is it the envelope?” he asked excitedly. Tony handed it to him and Steve nearly ripped it open to get to the papers inside. He turned to Peter and sat across from him at the table.

“I ordered these once Tony came out of his coma,” he started. “I was just thinking that in case something like that happens again, there should be… well, you should have a second… you know, authority figure.” He trailed off, looking nervous. “Anyways, we can throw these out if you want, but—”

“You got adoption papers, too, didn’t you?” Tony asked with a smile. Steve nodded sheepishly and glanced at Peter.

“You… wanna adopt me, too?” Peter asked.

“You deserve two parents,” Steve replied. “And I figured I could be the one to take that place. Besides, Clint says I'm basically the mother of this family anyways.”

“I’m not calling you Mom,” Peter said. He grinned and glanced at the papers Steve showed him. “But yeah, that… that would be great, Steve. Um. Dad?” He frowned and looked at Tony. “What should I call him?”

“Pop? Father? Dad 2.0?” Tony shrugged and went back to making lunch. “Whatever floats your boat, kid.”

“Let’s stick with Cap,” Steve said.

“Wait, does this mean I’m Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark-Rogers?” Peter asked. “Cause that’s a bit of a mouthful.”

Steve shook his head. “You don’t have to take my name. Just knowing that legally I'm your guardian is enough.”

“Parker-Stark it is.” Tony put a plate of burgers down with a clack and pulled up a chair at the table. “Now everyone eat. Especially you, kid, you’re looking thinner than usual.”

“Come on, I'm a teenager,” Peter protested. “My metabolism’s high as hell, I always look thinner than usual.”

“Then you get two burgers.” Tony plopped them on his plate and handed one to Steve. “Eat.”

“Yes, Dad,” Peter grinned. He dug into the food, sighing happily at the taste. “Ca’ oo ma’e t’foo fo’eve?” he muffled around his food. Tony made a face.

“Chew your food and swallow, you little freak.”

Peter obliged and grabbed a grape soda. “Can you make the food forever?” he repeated.

“No, Dad 2.0 has to help out or else he’ll be nothing but a moocher like you,” Tony replied.

“I am not going by Dad 2.0, Tony,” Steve said.

“Father the Second? Pop-Pop?”

“No, and no.”

“I’ll think of something.”

\--------------------

It was inevitable, when Tony thought about it later.

He and Steve raised Peter as well as they could, with the team around to help them when they needed it. They became an odd, half-functioning family of sorts, living together and around each other almost seamlessly.

Of course, after six months of being Peter’s legal guardians, Tony was starting to get a little irritated that Steve hadn’t made a move.

They slept in bedrooms next to each other, made breakfast for each other, and drove Peter and each other to school and work. At night they alternated making dinners, and then sat on the couch curled up next to each other and watched the evening news. Sometimes Steve would even wrap an arm around Tony without thinking, and Tony would lean against him while he tapped away on his tablet or ranted about the politics on the news.

But Steve never kissed him. He never tried to kiss him, or touch him, or take him to bed and ravish him for hours like Tony wanted. Tony started dropping hints every chance he got that he wanted Steve to try something. It was getting exhausting.

“So, are you and Cap ever going to get it on?” Peter asked one day. They were eating breakfast in the kitchen while Steve showered after his morning run.

“That’s none of your damn business,” Tony replied. He flipped the page in his newspaper and arched an eyebrow at his son. “Why are you asking things like that, anyways?”

“Cause I made a deal with Clint that I wouldn’t date until you and Cap did something, and there’s this boy named Wade at my school and I really wanna—”

“For God’s sake, Peter, just ask the boy out,” Tony interrupted. “Don’t wait for your second father and I to try something, otherwise this kid’s gonna get snatched up by someone else and then where’ll you be?”

“Come on, I’d feel bad if I was getting some and you weren’t,” Peter said with a smirk.

“First of all, you are barely sixteen years old and won’t be getting _any_ for at least fifteen years. Secondly, just ask the boy out.”

“You’re gonna make me wait ‘till I’m thirty to have sex? I thought you lost your virginity when you were, like, twelve.”

“And look where I am now.”

Peter glanced around. “Oh yeah, living in the penthouse of a billion-dollar company building and fighting crime on the side. That’s a real hard life you’ve got, Dad.”

“I’m living with a sassy asshole of a teenager and not getting sex. My life is a tragedy,” Tony replied. “Now go to school.”

“Yes, sir.” Peter grabbed a banana, put his bowl in the sink, and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Go have sex with Cap,” he called as he headed for the elevator.

“Go ask Wade to suck face with you,” Tony called back. He heard the boy laughing as the elevator closed and grinned to himself.

“Who’s this Wade?” Steve asked from the doorway. He toweled his hair dry and threw it over a chair. “And should we be concerned about them ‘sucking face’?”

“Nah, I told him he can’t have sex until he’s thirty,” Tony replied. He glanced up and watched Steve grab a bowl and box of cereal. “Did you hear anything else of that conversation?”

“No, just what you called to him,” Steve replied. “And something about me, but I didn’t catch what.”

“Never mind. You got a meeting today?”

“Not until 12:30.”

“Then we’re watching _The Fellowship of the Ring_ and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Is this one of those fantasy movies with dragons and whatnot?” Steve asked as he poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table across from Tony.

“Yep.”

“Sounds good.”

That was how they ended up on the couch, curled against each other as they watched the movie. Steve’s arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulders, and Tony leaned against his side, head pillowed on Steve’s shoulder.

At some point, Tony leaned up and kissed Steve’s jaw and asked, “So, can we start having sex now?”

Steve hummed and leaned a little closer to Tony. “Hang on, this is getting pretty good.”

“I just asked if we could have sex and you reply with ‘hang on’?”

“Yeah, but we can have sex after the movie.”

Tony leaned back in the couch and crossed his arms. “Alright, fine. But you’re lucky I like this movie so much or I wouldn’t be nearly as compliant.”

“Thank you for being a complete nerd, Tony.”

“Dork.”

Steve kissed Tony’s forehead and smiled.

As soon as the ending credits rolled, Steve flipped Tony on the couch and crawled over him. “Okay, we can have sex now,” he said cheerfully.

“So you’re really okay with this?” Tony asked.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask for weeks,” Steve replied with a shrug.

“You’ve been waiting? I’ve been busting my ass trying to get you to make a move!”

Steve arched an eyebrow and stared meaningfully at Tony. “I’ve been walking around this place half-naked for three weeks straight and you didn’t think that was some kind of hint?” he asked.

“You always walk around half-naked,” Tony defended himself.

“Not when the ‘half’ part is just a towel.”

“I figured you were experiencing some kind of pants shortage.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve said fondly. He leaned over and kissed Tony gently. “Pants off now.”

Tony struggled with his shirt and pants, groaning when Steve leaned down and immediately licked at Tony’s nipples. “Stop that, it tickles,” he grumbled.

“That means it’s working. Pants. Off.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Tony said in exasperation. He managed to get the belt buckle undone before Steve slid it out of its loops and tore the pants down and off.

“Your turn,” Tony said. He leaned up and kissed Steve quickly before making grabby hands at his zipper. “Get your hips down here, I can’t reach your dick.”

“Don’t be crude, Tony,” Steve said. He leaned his hips down obligingly and sucked a bruise at Tony’s neck.

“Cock? Phallus? I can think of something else, even make one up. You know some people name their cocks? I’m thinking ‘Fernando’ for mine—”

“You’re not naming your dick, Tony.”

“Can I name yours?”

“No, Tony.”

“You never let me have any fun,” Tony complained. He shimmied out of his underwear and reached up to snap the waistband on Steve’s boxers. Steve flinched and glared down at the genius. “Come on, dicks out and let’s do this.”

Steve kissed him again and wrapped his fingers around Tony’s cock. He pumped his hand a couple of times and grinned when Tony arched into his touch.

“Please tell me you’re going to fuck me on this couch,” he moaned.

“I’m not going to fuck you on our couch,” Steve replied. “Peter sits on this couch. He’d never forgive us if he found out we did that here.”

“I’ll replace the damn couch, just fuck me on it.” Tony glared up at Steve and tweaked one of the supersoldier’s nipples. “What exactly was your plan to do with me if you weren’t going to fuck me here?”

“I’m going to give you a blowjob,” Steve said simply. Tony blinked and stared up at Steve.

“That is so weird coming out of your mouth,” he said finally.

“Do you not want a blowjob?”

“No, I definitely want a blowjob.”

“Then stop talking and let me give you a blowjob.” With that, Steve leaned down and licked at the head of Tony’s cock.

Under any other circumstance, Tony would have made fun of how devoted and concentrated Steve was. However, since he was on the receiving end of Steve’s current concentration, the only sounds he was making were moans and broken pleas for “more, God, _more”_.

Steve sucked and licked at Tony’s cock, wrapping a hand around the base and pumping his fist as he worked. Tony clenched at the couch cushions and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yeah, fuck, I can’t hold on,” he panted after a minute. “I’m going to come, like, _now_.”

“Good,” Steve replied. He resumed his sucking and hummed in appreciation when Tony cried out and finished in his mouth.

Tony pulled Steve back up and kissed him fiercely. “Your turn,” he panted when Steve pulled away. Steve grinned and let Tony maneuver them so he was lying on his back.

Later, when Peter came home from school, the living room was suspiciously empty. “Dad? Cap?” he called. “Where the fuck is our couch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I hadn't abandoned this! It just took a little longer, plus I've got all these new fics I had to get out. But I added a sex scene at the end to make up for this taking almost a month to finish. Happy holidays to all of you!!!

**Author's Note:**

> An amazingly huge thanks to AO3 user [DarkCatFoodLover](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCatFoodLover/) for the prompt! Hope you enjoy it! (The fic title comes from the Phillip Phillips song "Home")
> 
> That's right, ladies and gentlemen! I'm writing for prompts again! I'm not sure how many I'll get to, but I swear I'm working on them as they come. I've really wanted to do this one for a while, because I think that teen!Peter getting adopted by the Avengers and getting Tony and Steve together is just the cutest. (side note: I have no idea how Child Protective Services works, so if I described the foster system incorrectly I apologize). This one's gonna be multi- chapter since I can't seem to be able to just write a one- shot. 
> 
> Got an idea for a fic? A prompt you'd like to see? Either leave a comment on this fic OR go to my [tumblr ask box](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/ask) and leave it for me! I'd love to hear them!!!


End file.
